Yeah, But She Really Doesn’t Look Spanish So…

If you can’t tell, I have Utah pride. I moved here with my feet (slightly) dragging and a verbal confirmation from Jim that we’d be outta here and back in sunny California within a few years.  BUT, Utah is pretty awesome. More specifically, Salt Lake City is pretty awesome. I’ve met wonderful people, I’ve met wonderful Mormons, I’ve explored the wonderful outdoors and I am able to own a home, damnit!

That said, I have seen reasons why the rest of the country thinks Utah sucks. These instances come rarely but when they do, they leave me so flipping shell shocked.

Instance 1 – (this is actually hilarious) When the lease on my Honda was up, Jim and I bought a used 4Runner. On the recommendation of the dealership, I called an independent insurance agent who could get a "killer rate".

In addition to her sounding like I was completely ruining her day by offering her my business, our conversation went like this:
 
Lady: Drivers license and Social?
Me: blablabla
Lady: Any accidents or tickets on your record?
Me: No
Lady: Do you drink alcohol?
Me: WTF? (that was in my head), Yes.
Lady: Well I can tell you right now you won't qualify for the company that gives the best rates. They only offer insurance to those who 100% abstain from alcohol.
Me: …

Can you discriminate based on a (legal) habit? I mean, it isn't like I have a DUI; I'm a law abiding citizen for crying out loud. I told my cube mate, "Welcome to Utah" she said. I told Emily, "Welcome to Utah" she said.

Instance 2 - I was having dinner with a few people, one of which had just adopted an adorable little Latino girl. He’s been pretty open about the process, heart ache and ongoing difficulties involved in adoption (not to mention the adoption of a child who is already 4). This particular day he was telling us about how he and his wife and their new little girl were out to eat and were getting all kinds of stares. He said it dawned on him that the starers (who he mentioned were Hispanic) were staring at him because his little girl is not white. I found it appropriate to then ask him if they were experiencing any other issues surrounding the fact that he and his wife are white, and the little girl is Hispanic. For example, are they interested in teaching her about her heritage?

“She’s not Hispanic, she’s Spanish”

“Sorry, Spanish. Are you guys being guided on how to go about preserving her heritage now that she is in a white household?”

“She doesn’t know anything about her heritage. She doesn’t speak Spanish, her mother never taught her anything. So no.”

“Yeah but, there’s research that supports the importance of non-white children adopted into white homes being exposed to their natural heritage”

“No, we’re not doing that”

“Don’t you think she might ask one day why her skin is different? Or, that her classmates might ask her?”

“Yeah but she doesn’t look Spanish, she looks just like my wife”

He then pulls out his iPhone and shows me a picture of a gorgeous, almond eyed, brown skinned little girl. Who looks nothing like his white wife.

Look, I genuinely like this person, but I couldn’t help but feel frustrated at this conversation. The tone it took was one that implied I had offended him. Meanwhile, another friend who is not white, has a Mexican husband (who was adopted by white parents, BTW) and biracial children is sitting there seemingly not offended or surprised that this conversation had turned to this tone.

I didn’t walk away thinking this person was racist or intentionally culturally insensitive. I walked away saddened that some people in this Wonder Bread White state literally do not see color. We have a big Latino population here…and if everyone could just get over it and step over to the West side of the temple, they’d be engulfed in all the rich culture it has to offer.

Maybe I’m Not The Sexy Scooter Queen I Thought I Was

I was scooting home yesterday in this beautiful, if not slightly dreary fall weather when an unfavorable altercation happened. Not that pocket pool was a favorable altercation or anything.

It is to my knowledge that when stopped at a red light, behind a long line of cars, you may not block any intersections. Am I right or wrong on this one? 

So, at a four way intersection, near a school mind you, I intentionally did not pull into the intersection, but waited for the red light (nearly a mile ahead of me) to turn green. The cross traffic had stop signs, we did not.

As I am sitting, waiting patiently, allowing cross traffic to continue I heard someone honking. I turned around, didn’t see any drama and then faced forward again. I heard some more honking and, “move that motorcycle!” Hmmm, I turned around again and through my dark, cool motorcycle blue blockers, still could not tell who the hell was yelling. 

The light a mile ahead turns green, I inch into the intersection. A white Oldsmobile, two cars behind me makes a screaming left turn. As he does this, his shot gun passenger leans out the window and says, “learn how to drive, bitch”! He said it just like Dave Chappelle says, “I’m rich, bitch!”

Um, WTF? Per usual I sat there, mouth open and promptly thought of a bazillion things I could have shouted back once they were out of sight.

My potential comeback options went from rational:

“I was simply obeying the law”

To confrontational:

“Why don’t you learn how to follow the law, bitch!”

To psychotic:

“DO YOU KNOW THE DAY I HAD TODAY MOTHERFUCKER?!”

I then started to cry, called my friend Steph and made her share a bottle of wine with me after work.